Blooming on Hudson Street.

Spring in the city = riotous color. Even those of us with the most monochromatic black winter wardrobes – for all intents and purposes a required uniform for living here – yield, however slightly, to bursts of brightness.

And why not? The streets and parks are enchantingly abloom. Apparently miniature daffodils, which I had never seen (or noticed?) before, were all the rage in the Village this April. They are fucking adorable and make me smile. (Okay, or at least make me want to.) Alas, their little yellow petals have just started to crinkle and droop, and now I haz a sad. :(

But all is not lost! Because the tulips have begun crashing their party and stealing their show. Shopkeepers are suddenly engaging in some kind of botany arms race, taking full advantage of urns and planters outside their businesses. Come see for yourself. 

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Dwindling daffodils
Abingdon Square Park

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Tulips showing up saying haha, fuck you daffodils!
Abingdon Square Park

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Abingdon Square Park

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Hudson & Bethune Sts.

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Hudson bet. Bank & Bethune Sts.

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These tulips look fake. AND YET THEY ARE NOT.

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Look! You can buy your own!
(Not these, tho. These are all mine.)

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Hudson bet. Perry & Charles Sts.

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The Meadow
Hudson St. bet. Charles & 10th Sts.
This store sells only chocolate, salt, cocktail bitters and…wait for it…flowers. (What more do you need?)

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Red Farm
Hudson bet. Charles & 10th Sts.

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IDGAF about Red Farm’s Peking duck, or their dim sum or whatever. But I applaud the hyacinth.

#deadsquirrelsalute!

Happy Friday, my friends. You know I detest cliché, but I must urge you to stop and smell the (literal or metaphorical) flowers. Or at the very least stop and take pictures of them with your phone camera and maybe look at them later (since as far as I can tell neither daffodils nor tulips have much of a scent). Otherwise, the terrorists conservatives win.

2 thoughts on “Blooming on Hudson Street.

  1. My brain thanks you for the visual stimulation which has remixed its chemicals so I can actually enjoy pitchurs uv purtee fleurs. My bearded purple iris (no relation to you I’m sure) have broken free of their soil havens and may get taller than last year. Oh frabjous day!

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